The Onyx Throne Ch 34 35

Chapter 34

The group awoke early and, though Allora was much recovered, she still looked sickly but assured Mitchell and Lethelin that she was fit to travel. About the night before, nothing was said. The tension was thick over the camp but luckily no one wanted to spare the energy to talk.

Mitchell stared up at the immense mountains before them and couldn't help but feel daunted by the task. He imagined this must have been what those early settlers of the American West had felt upon approaching the Rockies for the first time. As a modern human, he had never had to deal with actually hiking a mountain range, he would just hop a plane and cruise the skies at 35,000 feet while watching a movie and drinking a Coke. Now, standing at the base of the so-called Skybreaker Peaks, he couldn't imagine there were actually passes through but the path led upward and onward so it had to come out somewhere.

That first day was mostly quiet. The steady climb meant that they were all a little too winded to talk comfortably so there was only conversation about watching one's step or which fork to take. There were rudimentary markers at certain junctions and Allora taught Mitchell to read them whenever they came across one in case they were to be separated. He accepted the instruction without comment and she didn't try to make any conversation beyond that. Lethelin mostly kept to herself although Mitchell saw her glance at the elf more than once with something that looked almost like sympathy.

Allora was steadier on her feet today but she still looked tired. Despite almost ten hours of sleep and plenty of food, the dark circles were still present around her eyes, which still had a glassy quality about them. But she wasn't stumbling today. Mitchell tried to recall how he'd felt after his first big healing when the cekip had nearly blasted a hole in his head. While he had been a bit groggy the next day, like a mild hangover, he didn't recall feeling too badly. By lunch, he had mostly recovered. After a short stop for a meal that first day, however, Allora looked slightly worse if that was possible.

"Is something wrong with the food?" Mitchell finally asked her. He'd watched her almost force the dried fruit that often passed for their midday meal into her mouth and it looked like she struggled to keep it down.

Allora looked up at him, her eyes glassy, and seemed like she struggled to focus on him for a moment.

"I... do not seem to have much of an appetite. The food is fine."

Mitchell, not asking for permission, leaned across and placed his hand on her forehead. He didn't know if elves got fevers but it felt like the right thing to do. Allora flinched slightly but she didn't pull away. Instead of her being warm, however, her skin was cool and clammy to the touch.

"Are elves normally cooler than humans?"

"No," she told him. "In fact, it is the opposite. Our bodies run slightly warmer than yours."

"Well, you feel cool," he told her. "I think you're sick. Should I try my healing spell?"

"That is not necessary. I will be fine."

"We have a big mountain to climb and you need to be healthy. Let me try. I need the practice, anyway."

"Very well," she acquiesced.

Mitchell placed his hand back on her forehead and began to reconstruct the minor healing rune he'd practiced hundreds of times while sitting in the back of the wagon. Healing, like all other spells, could be cast outward from his body and physical touch wasn't necessary but, for some reason, people preferred the laying-on-of-hands technique. Just like how he didn't have to point his hand where he wanted his arcane missile spells to go but there was something psychologically satisfying about it.

As he began to push his healing mana into her, he saw her wince. Then she began to shiver. Mitchell started to get the sense that something was wrong but before he could end the spell she groaned and pitched forward, vomiting up the little bit of food she'd managed to eat. Mitchell yanked his hand back, dropped the spell, and stared in confusion.

"I don't think that's supposed to happen," Lethelin said from her seat behind him.

"Something is wrong," Allora panted, as she spat out the remnants of her stomach.

"What can we do?" he asked her. "If the healing magic doesn't work, is there something else?"

"Are you sure you did the spell right?" Lethelin asked.

"Yes. I mean, I think so. The rune is pretty simple. It's only a first circle spell. Revos said it would be good for most minor injuries like cuts and sprains."

Lethelin got up and moved closer to study Allora who hadn't sat fully upright yet. She stuck out her hand and Mitchell saw there was a small laceration on the thief's palm.

"Try this. I cut myself earlier when I slipped on that bit of scree. See if the spell works."

Allora forced herself up and reached for the waterskin while she watched. Mitchell repeated the process and felt the magic flow from his sevith to Lethelin's hand and watched as the skin beneath the congealed blood pulled itself shut. Lethelin showed no signs of discomfort. Once it was done she splashed some water on her hand and washed away the flakes of dried blood to reveal fresh pink skin beneath.

"So if it worked for Lethelin, why didn't it work for you?" Mitchell asked Allora.

"I do not know," she said.

"What do we do?" Lethelin asked, looking first to Allora, then to Mitchell.

Mitchell frowned and stared up the path at the mountain before them.

"Your friend in Awenor, Gilriel. Do you think she can help with whatever is wrong?"

"Maybe," Allora said, sounding a little out of breath. "She is old and knows a good deal of magic and herbs."

"And how long to get to her?"

"Once we are over the mountains, I will be able to say more accurately but... maybe three weeks."

Mitchell felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Three weeks of hard travel and she was already barely eating. His healing magic didn't work and Allora didn't even know what was wrong with her. Lethelin was looking at him expectantly.

"All we can do is keep going," he said at last. Looking to Allora, he continued. "We'll take more breaks so you can rest. And eat as much as you can. I know it tastes bad but you need your strength. We'll make it."

Lethelin gave him a nod and kneeled down in front of Allora.

"Are you okay to keep going or do you need more rest?"

Her voice had an unexpected note of concern for the paladin. It surprised Mitchell.

Allora also seemed startled by the show of concern but recovered quickly and gave a weak smile.

"Believe it or not, I feel mostly okay. Just a little tired. I can walk. We should push on."

As she stood, Mitchell reached for her pack. She tried to object but he overrode her and tied it to Marvin. The placid beast looked mildly reproachful at the new weight but it would survive.

Then, concern for Allora like a rock in his gut, they continued up the path.

***

The next day they found signs of dire wolves. It started with the yulops behaving more skittishly and then Lethelin spotted a mostly eaten carcass of what was probably a cousin to Tammi and Marvin. Allora, having more experience in the wilds than a city girl like Lethelin said the kill was maybe three days old.

"Dire wolves are large, maybe as large as a yulop but much more powerful," Allora explained. "They hunt the lower slopes, primarily. They typically travel in packs of four or five and will attack small groups of two or three, preferring to keep superior numbers."

"So we should expect to be targeted?" Mitchell asked her.

"Almost certainly. The three of us, plus the yulops, will prove too much of a temptation, I am sure. But while they are cunning and excellent climbers, they fear fire."

"Sounds easy enough," Mitchell said. "Do we have any fire?"

"Check your spell book. I believe there is a second circle spell called fire bolt. You should begin to practice it. It is slightly more powerful than your arcane missile spell and has a chance to set a target on fire. If you can burn a few of the wolves as they begin their attack, the rest may flee."

"Stollar's balls," Lethelin swore and glanced nervously up at the rocks around them.

"Didn't you have to deal with that on your way into Iletish?" Mitchell asked her.

"I traveled with a caravan over the southern road," she explained. "I was tracking Ivaran. I wasn't fool enough to cross the mountains and I expected to travel back to Awenor the same way I came."

"The dire wolves are not the biggest threat, Allora said. "As long as we stay alert, especially after dark, we should be able to fend them off. As we go higher, we will have to contend with the shadow cats and then the razor beaks."

"Balls and hairy taint!" Lethelin cursed. "That's just what I get for leaving the city."

"Are those bad?" Mitchell asked, a little shocked by the intensity of Lethelin's invective.

"The shadow cats are the reason the wolves don't venture very high into the mountains," Allora nodded as she explained. "They are ferocious predators. Full grown ones can be as intelligent as a person in their own way. Some grow as long as three meters and nearly as tall. They are also magical and have the ability to disguise their true location."

"You think they're coming at you from one direction but really they're behind you!" Lethelin said. "I saw one once at a high sun festival when I was a girl. It was pitted against two giant scorpions in the arena. I had nightmares for a week."

"Lethelin is correct," Allora said. "Full-grown males are large enough to take down a clorvol. They are nocturnal, relying on the darkness to mask their presence and illusion to confuse their prey."

"Don't forget about their tentacles!" Lethelin said sardonically. "And they have six legs! Six! They're like something that crawled up out of the Nine Hells!"

"More than likely they came from the Fey Lands," Allora corrected. "But yes, their preferred method of attack is to distract you, then use their barbed tentacles to grab you, pull you off balance, then pounce and gut you."

The clorvol that had pulled them through the desert had been nearly twelve feet long and almost half as wide. It's jaws could nearly swallow a man whole and its hide had been almost as hard as stone. Mitchell didn't want to think about something that could take one of them out.

"A light spell or a good torch is usually enough to reveal the illusion," Allora added as if she was trying to offer comfort. "The illusion will cast no shadow. But you might only have seconds to cast it before the cat strikes. And they are solo hunters so we will only likely have to deal with one at a time.

Mitchell was almost afraid to ask, but he did anyway. "And the razor beaks?"

"Large flying creatures. They have the head and wings of a bird of prey but the lower body of a cat. Their claws can shred stone as easily as flesh and their beaks can punch through steel plate armor like it was paper. They can carry off a fully-grown man or a jivi with little difficulty. And they are quite fond of feasting on shadow cats. They prefer to swoop in on prey and drag it back up into the sky. Sometimes they will drop their catch on the rocks to finish the job. They are somewhat awkward on the ground. As long as we keep our eyes on the sky when we are in the higher passes, we should be alright.

"Fucking hell," Mitchell muttered in English.  Then, switching back to Common, he asked. "Death from the shadows or death from above. Is there anything here that won't try to kill us and eat us?"

Allora thought for a minute, then scratched Tammi's chin, which earned an appreciative chuffing sound from the beast. "The yulops," she added with a small grin which looked a little ghostly on her pale face.

"Stollar's hairy asshole," Mitchell muttered, before thinking about it. Allora, having already heard him curse once, only chuckled but it took a good two or three minutes for Lethelin to stop laughing.

That bit of levity was the last one they would have for several days.

Chapter 35

The first pack of wolves made their move that very evening. The three travelers had found a small cave to shelter in which, like that of the first night on the lower slopes, had been used as a camping place before. They were just getting settled when two of the animals charged the entrance. Mitchell was laying out his bedroll and looked up as Lethelin uttered a cry and saw her fall back, narrowly avoiding the wolf's massive jaw as it snapped at her head. Immediately, everyone was in a panic. The yulops bolted for the back of the small cave, bleating like mad, and Mitchell had his sword out with his other hand summoning his barely learned fire bolt spell. Naturally, it failed as he tried to cast it before the rune was firm in his mind. He felt the unpleasant, almost electrical, shock of the spell losing cohesion and he forced himself to ignore it as he stepped in front of Lethelin who was crab walking back to get away from the mouth of the cave. The sounds of the wolves' combined growls in the small space vibrated Mitchell's insides.

To his left, he saw Allora hold up her hand to cast what was likely the fire bolt spell but nothing happened. He saw the flicker of her krisa as she channeled the mana but the spell did not form.

With the element of surprise gone, the two beasts crouched and stared at their potential meal warily. With fur a mottled mix of grays and browns that matched the stone around them almost perfectly the larger of the two was as tall as Mitchell's chest and, as it growled, he saw its fangs were nearly four inches long.

"My magic is not working," Allora said with a note of panic in her voice.

Before Mitchell could respond, the one in front of Allora lunged at her which caused her to dance back and swing her sword which earned the beast a cut along its shoulder. It yelped and bounded backwards but a third member of the pack was waiting to take its place. Mitchell could see at least one more pacing behind that but the opening was too narrow for them to all crowd in.

As the wolf surged forward, Mitchell brought his sword down in an arc but the animal was faster and dove to the side. He attempted the fire bolt again and once more that electrical shock ran down his spine as the spell lost cohesion.

"Fuck it," he snarled, giving up on trying to cast the new spell. Instead, he switched to the arcane missiles and fired three quick bursts into the beast's side. Despite thick fur, it had the desired effect. With the first shot searing a whole through its coarse hair while the second and third penetrated into its body. The wolf yowled and launched itself at Mitchell, bringing its paws down on his shoulders, the weight of the thing sending him staggering down to one knee as he dropped the sword and tried to keep the enraged animal from ripping his face off. Its fetid breath washed over him and the smell of rotting meat made him want to retch. Shoving back, he struggled to maintain his balance. He knew if he went down it was all over.

"Fuck, you stink!" Mitchell snarled back as he tried to twist the beast to the side and off of him.

Grabbing thick handfuls of fur he twisted at the waist and tried to yank the creature off of his shoulders. With a scream of rage, he pulled the dire wolf to the right and followed it down, landing crossways across its upper body. Before the beast could rise again, he pressed his hand into the side of its neck and fired three more arcane missiles into the hairy flesh. There was an explosion of blood as the magic blasted a whole as big as his palm into the wolf's throat and he felt a searing pain in his hand. The savage beast kicked once, blood gushing out of its ruined neck, and then went still.

Mitchell reached out, grabbed his sword and stood up just in time to see a new wolf come bounding into the cave, teeth bared and eyes insane with bloodlust. Before he could bring up his sword to meet it, a dagger exploded from the creature's right eye and it fell like its strings had been cut. He looked behind him and saw Lethelin there, arm still out and a look of intense concentration on her face.

"Nice shot," he told her, still panting.

She gave him a no-big-deal shrug but couldn't hide her grin of satisfaction, and they both turned in time to see Allora slide her long blade into the space between her attacker's shoulder and neck, presumably piercing its heart. The wolf let out an almost pitiful cry of agony and dropped to the ground. Its legs kicked weakly a few times and then it ceased moving as weakness overcame the elf and she staggered to one knee.

Motion in the darkness outside the cave caught Mitchell's eye and he saw the first wolf that Allora had wounded was crouched low about a meter from the entrance staring at them. Its eyes almost glowed in the fading light and Mitchell could see a small puddle of blood pooling around the leg that she had sliced open. The animal looked at its fallen packmates and, not liking its odds, slinked off into the night.

Mitchell went to Allora and with Lethelin under the other arm they helped her stand and walked to the back wall of the cave where the yulops were still skittering, their eyes wide and panicked.

"Watch her," he said to Lethelin. "I'm going to get rid of the dead ones."

"Do not go far," Allora said from her spot on the floor. "There may be more nearby."

"I saw a small drop-off down into a ravine a little ways behind us. I'll dump them there."

Allora nodded but said no more.

Over the next twenty minutes, Mitchell dragged each corpse back down the narrow path and dropped them into the chasm. He worried about the blood trail drawing more creatures but there wasn't much they could do about that. Meanwhile, Allora's condition continued to worry him. Why hadn't her magic worked? He knew so little about it that he couldn't even begin to guess at a reason.

On each trip back, he gathered up as much wood as he could find. They weren't trees so much as bushes with delusions of grandeur but rain was sparse enough on this side of the mountains that they were mostly dry and should burn without much issue. His sword wasn't ideal for chopping wood but the bushes were thin enough that it doesn't cause too much of an issue. Since he hadn't mastered the fire spell yet, he wanted to have an actual fire going in case they did come back. Plus, the nights were getting colder as they went higher and the warmth would be welcome.

As Mitchell returned with his final load of wood, he saw Allora was moving around, setting out provisions for their evening meal. Lethelin was tending to Tammi and Marvin who were calmer although, whenever a stiff breeze blew the scent of wolves and fresh blood into the cavern, their nostrils flared and they bleated plaintively.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her as he crouched down into the firepit and began to stack the wood.

Allora didn't answer for a long moment as she pulled provisions out of the magical bag they'd picked up.

"I could not channel my mana," she said quietly and wouldn't meet his eyes. "I reached for it but I couldn't find it. It is like it is not there."

He saw her hands were shaking as she set down a small brown bag that had some dried meat. She noticed it too and clutched them together.

"Mitchell, I have never not been able to summon my magic. I do not know what is wrong."

She looked at him then and he could see cold terror in her eyes.

"So this isn't a thing that happens when a magic user gets sick?"

"No. Our magic is a part of us as much as our blood and bones. Even if I never cast a spell again, it would remain with me!"

One of the stones in her krisa blinked and then went dark almost immediately.

"Do you see?" She asked him, panic making her voice tight. "I cannot channel!"